


99 Problems

by sophiahelix



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Gen, Karen Filippelli is Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-27
Updated: 2008-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-19 13:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiahelix/pseuds/sophiahelix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you're having girl problems, I feel bad for you, son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	99 Problems

Karen could never sleep during a windstorm. Growing up, their house had been old and creaky, and shingles were prone to flying off and hitting the sagging gutters above her bedroom windows if the wind blew hard. She would jerk awake in the middle of the night, hearing the bang of cedar against metal, and before she could wake herself up enough to remember what was going on it scared the hell out of her every time.

On a November night the window screens in her New York hotel room started rattling just as she got into bed, and after a moment of listening to them shake she sighed and turned the light on again, feeling thankful she'd sprung for a hotel with premium cable. Watching infomercials in her first apartment had been almost as bad as tossing and turning while the wind whipped tree branches against her walls, but there was bound to be something entertaining on the long list of movies on the cable menu. They had both the Independent Film Channel _and_ Sundance, after all.

Which was why she ended up watching a softcore porn that was almost over, of course. It was one in the morning, and no one needed to know that she still hadn't seen _An Inconvenient Truth_.

Softcore porn, Karen decided after a few minutes, was ridiculous. There was a lot of writhing, a lot of ecstatic moaning with fluttering eyelids, and a fair amount of boobs, and that was about it unless you considered half-assed plots. Not that she'd seen much of either kind, but hardcore seemed like it was at least honest – no lame murder mysteries, no women with shadowy pasts, no beach montages with cheesy music playing. Plus equal opportunity nudity.

And het intercourse was not the be-all, end-all act of supreme romantic bliss in the hardcore stuff, she thought as the couple onscreen rolled around wearing only whipped cream. Real porn didn't bother to pretend that putting tab A into slot B achieved some kind of spiritual union, and even all that creepy fixation on virginity didn't have anything to do with romance.

Weird and cynical thoughts for a windy Thursday night, but she'd been getting more and more exasperated with whatever romance was supposed to be about, after several depressing forays into online dating. And it wasn't so long ago that she'd had to decide whether she qualified as a virgin or not, depending on your definition of tab A.

In retrospect, college looked better all the time. Karen knew she'd go crazy in an instant if she was stuck back in that tiny room, dealing with all the relationship drama and eating crappy dorm food, but it seemed _safe_ , crawling out of bed to go to calculus class, crawling back into bed to not go to calculus class, dating her ex-girlfriend's ex-girlfriend and drinking cheap beer with her feet dangling off someone's lofted bed. It felt like "safe" was all she was looking for these days, alone or not.

Work was kind of safe. Utica's numbers were the best they'd ever been, and no one looked at her like she was the biggest, most clueless joke of the year. Work also meant dealing with a million things that would have freaked out that college girl whose biggest worries were persistent Friday morning hangovers and passing her chemistry lab. Her car needed new tires, she was still fighting her old landlord over her deposit, she'd put on a couple of pounds and her favorite slacks didn't fit, and her laptop fan was making weird noises. Dating would be just one more thing on the list of suck.

The wind calmed down as the movie ended, and by the time the next one started she was already starting to pass out, burrowing into the satin pillowcase she'd brought to keep her hair from getting too frizzed out. She mentally checked, again, that the right reports were in her briefcase and that her alarm was set to blast her awake at seven, and turned off the light.

Safe was probably boring, she told herself, just before she fell asleep.

*****

It wasn't the worst meeting Karen had ever been to. It was close, because any meeting involving Michael Scott immediately ranked in her bottom ten (which would soon be getting pretty crowded, she thought, if she stuck with Dunder-Mifflin much longer), but if it had been excruciating, it had at least been short. Unlike the endless meetings last year when the Howard kid went on for hours about the insane Power Points he'd made in the middle of the night, proving that, whatever the '80s said, coke and finance didn't mix.

She thought about calling a couple of friends but she knew that would snowball into a crowd of friends' friends, and the thought of the Friday night scene exhausted her. It was hard to imagine that just last year she'd wanted to move here permanently.

A drink was still in order, though, and she was headed towards the East Village when her phone rang. She didn't usually pick up unfamiliar numbers, but she didn't have all the corporate lines in her new phone yet and she'd left the meeting secretly hoping that Wallace would want to talk to her about the exemplary review she'd had last quarter. A _raise_ was seriously in order.

"Karen Filippelli."

"Hey."

They hadn't talked in a year, and she still knew his voice and it still made her feel that same old way for a moment. And she still hated him, mostly.

"How did you get my number?"

"From Michael."

"Right." She paused, tapping her index finger against her phone. "What do you want, Jim?"

"Are you still in the city?"

"How do you know – right. Michael again. Yeah, I'm here."

"Where?"

"In the city," she said shortly. "I'm going for a drink."

"Can I meet you there?"

Karen frowned, curling her lip. It was unbelievable that he would even ask her that.

"I can't believe you'd even ask me that."

Jim sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just – I'm kind of stuck here, and I got a hotel room but I can't get a bus home until tomorrow, and I thought – "

"You thought you'd call up your old side bet."

"No," he said, emphatically. "I've been wanting to talk for a while. It just worked out this way."

"Fabulous," she said. "Why are you stuck here?"

"It's a long story."

"Make it short."

"I rode up with Michael, my plans changed, and he'd already left."

"What plans?"

Jim didn't say anything.

"Oh god," Karen said. "No. I don’t even want to know. The answer is no."

"Hey, you'll enjoy this," Jim said. "I turn out to be the idiot."

"OK," she said. "Amuse me."

"Pam's at art school," Jim said. "I was coming up to spend the weekend with her. I got the date wrong, and she's out of town with all of her friends on a trip to Atlantic City she didn't even tell me about. I spent three hours in the car with Michael, who made me listen to Zen tapes and do tantric chanting with him, and now it's raining and I didn't bring an umbrella."

"Huh," Karen said.

"Also, my cell phone battery is dying and I didn't bring a charger."

"All right, Halpert," she said after considering. "Your story has pleased the comic muse. You get one drink."

"You're a goddess, Filippelli."

"Damn skippy," she said.

*****

Seeing Jim in her old pub was weird. He got there twenty minutes later than she did, of course, because he was still a total baby about the city and there was probably a subway map in his back pocket, but even the beer she'd had didn't soothe the quick jangle of nerves when he came up to the booth, just like nothing had ever made her feel that a shingle hitting a gutter was anything but terrifying.

"Nice place," Jim said, shrugging off his wet jacket. His hair, too long again (of course), was stuck down to his head, and he ran his hand through it before sitting down. It wasn't much of an improvement.

"Yeah, I used to come here a lot," Karen said, warily. "The buffalo wings are good."

"Cool," Jim said, looking at her empty plate. He glanced away, spotted her umbrella leaning against the booth, and nodded at it. "Umbrella. Smart woman."

"Smart people look at the weather forecast. You want a beer?"

"Thanks," he said.

"You're buying." She caught the waitress's attention and ordered, purposefully forgetting his favorite beer was Sam Adams and getting him a Stella instead. He didn't correct her.

"Am I buying those buffalo wings too?" he asked.

"Yep."

"Another plate of wings," he told the waitress. "And a cheeseburger with just onions. Want one?"

Karen shook her head, and the waitress left.

"Wow, so," Jim said, stretching out his legs. They bumped hers and he pulled them in fast. "This is weird."

"No kidding," she said, leaning forward to rest her chin on her hand. "Go ahead. Please tell me all your romantic troubles."

Jim frowned, unsure, looking like a little boy who'd just been told by a sarcastic mother he could have cookies for dinner. "Really? You want to hear?"

"No, I do not want to hear," Karen said. "But you want to tell me and I don't think we have anything else to talk about."

"That's not true," Jim said quietly. "I have – there are a lot of things I could say."

For a second he got to her again, and the part of her that was apparently always going to respond to his stupid smile and his big stupid earnest eyes and his stupid voice when he was being gentle and kind just went and responded away.

"I think I already heard those things," she said, leaning back and taking a sip of her beer. "They weren't all that interesting the first time around."

Jim sighed and shrugged. "I guess another apology isn't as good as buying you a beer."

"Buying me two beers."

"Sure," he said. "Can we go back to the comic muse thing again?"

"How about we try something else? 'So, Karen, what have you been up to?'"

"So, Karen, what have you been up to?" he parroted.

"Being awesome," she said, deadpan, and scored a grin off him. "Putting the Utica branch in first place on everything."

"I know," he said. "That's why I didn't ask."

"Learning how to rock climb and taking Thai cooking lessons."

"Nice," he said. "Dating?"

For a second it seemed like the conversation might shudder to a halt again, and then she rolled her eyes.

"For a little while. She had commitment issues. As in, 'let's drive to Massachusetts and get married legally since we can!' That was two months in."

Jim nodded; they'd gone over this stuff early in the relationship, and the discussion had ended when, just like she always did with guys, she preemptively nixed the idea of bringing another girl into bed. Which, now that she thought about it, was probably the metaphor for their entire relationship.

"And then – "

"I'm sorry," he said, breaking in. "I know it doesn't do any good, but I really am. I've felt like such a jackass all this time."

"Good," she said. He looked hurt. "I'm still not going to help you feel better about this, Jim. I'm not as mad as I was last year, but…" She trailed off, trying to find the words, angry that she was angry all over again.

"I'm not expecting you to forgive me," he said.

Karen shook her head. "It's not even that. It's like everything was a total lie. One day you woke up and just shook me off like I didn't mean anything to you."

Jim looked down at the table, nodding. It looked like his cheeks were going red.

"So when I'm talking to you, I don't feel like I'm talking to someone I used to date. You're just this guy who broke my heart."

"Can we start over again, then?" Jim asked, meeting her eyes. "If I'm someone else?"

"God, way to take a metaphor too far, Halpert," Karen said.

"Seriously. You're Karen Filippelli, Regional Manager Utica, and I'm Jim Halpert, jackass."

"Assistant jackass."

"Whatever."

She hated it when he got charming and funny to avoid talking about serious stuff, and she didn't want to smile, but his smiles were fucking infectious so she did. Their beers and food came and he plowed into his burger like always, squirting a mound of ketchup on it and finishing most of it in five minutes.

"When did you last eat, October?" Karen asked, taking a buffalo wing.

"Five in the morning," Jim said around a mouthful of burger. She could barely understand him until he swallowed. "I thought I was having lunch with – " He stopped.

Karen closed her eyes, counted to three, and opened them. "Fine. Go. I'll start drinking again."

"OK," Jim said, looking uneasy. He finished his burger and started picking at his fries. "So, Pam got into art school."

"Yay," Karen said, miming spinning an imaginary noisemaker.

"Hey, look, if you're going to be sarcastic the whole time – "

Karen shook her head and drank more beer.

"She took the fall semester off work and moved up here. Then – "

"Who's answering the phones?"

"What?" Jim asked.

"Who's undertaken all that complicated photocopying work?"

"OK, first, that's enough, and second – you seriously didn't hear?"

Karen shook her head.

"Ryan went back to his old temp agency and Michael hired him back."

"Shut up," Karen said, her mouth falling open.

"Hand to god."

"Shut _up_."

"Come see for yourself. Andy will be thrilled. He's marrying Angela and he wants to share his love with the world."

"Does Ryan sit behind the desk and snort lines all day?"

Jim laughed. "Maybe. I hadn't thought about it."

"You should." She shook her head. "All the weird shit happens to you guys."

"So," Jim said.

"Back to your tale of woe."

"So we're doing long distance, and it sucks. Mostly I come up because she hates driving in the city."

"Of course."

Jim threw her a look. "I can talk about our new manila folders supplier instead if you want."

"Jesus, no, fuck those guys," Karen said.

"We talked about getting engaged," Jim said. He didn't look at her for this part. "We said it would be later, but I couldn't wait, so… I proposed last month. She said yes."

"Date set?"

"August 8th. Location is booked."

"Church and reception hall?"

"B&B."

"Then tell me about trouble in paradise."

"That's the thing," Jim said. He stacked fries up Jenga-style and bit his lip. "Nothing is really wrong."

Karen fought the urge to dump her beer on his lap. He'd paid for it, after all. "Wow, that is the most convoluted way of saying 'in your face' I've ever heard."

Jim looked up quickly. "It's not that. Really, Karen, it's not. I just keep feeling like _something_ is wrong."

"Do you think she's cheating on you?"

Jim shook his head. "I'm jealous that her friends get to see her more than I do, but not that way."

"Do you think she's going to break up with you?"

"She'd have already done it."

"Are you worried that she's growing as a person and pursuing an actual career instead of sitting around doing a job she hates and bitching about it but not doing anything to change the situation?"

Jim didn't say anything.

Karen sighed a very long sigh. "I don't think either of us wants to go through this again."

"But I am," he said. "I just have this thing for women who are more awesome than me."

He was doing it again. "Cheap jokes mean you're buying me another plate of wings," Karen said.

"Sure you don't want a burger?"

"Wings," she said firmly. Jim gestured at the waitress and pointed at the empty plate.

"It's true, though," he said. "I know you're right. And Pam hasn't said anything, but I'm worried she thinks about it."

"Jim, I'm sure Pam is paying more attention to nude male models than to your crisis of self-doubt."

Jim looked startled. "Gee, thanks."

"No, I'm sure she's trying to help and she's going all soft and easy on you. Maybe coddling is what works with you, since talking to you straight sure didn't. But there's only so much she can do or should do."

"I don't think I like the way that sounds," Jim said, pushing his empty glass back and forth.

Karen raised her hands. "I'm not trying to be mean. It's just – how many girls have you dated in the last five years?"

"I don't know," Jim said. "What do you mean by dating?"

"Exactly," she said. "Two serious girlfriends –"

"Three. There was that girl for most of 2003."

"Fine, three. And then a bunch of random girls in and out, right?"

"You know it's not like that," Jim said, frowning. "I don't go pick up girls at bars or anything."

"No, but you're always 'sort of seeing someone.' I remember like four different girls calling when we were together just to see what was up."

"I remember an ex-boyfriend calling you drunk every Friday night for a month."

"We're talking about you, Halpert," Karen said. "You have no idea how to be alone."

Jim looked like he was going to say something, but he just hung his head instead. She felt a small pang, part victory, part regret, part annoyance with him for still looking like an overgrown little boy.

"Other than briefly getting back together with her charming ex-fiancée, Pam spent a year being single," Karen said. "I, as previously discussed, have become more awesome by the day since you dumped me. You see my point."

"I guess."

"Look, it's just that you always need to have someone holding your hand. Remember that time you were going to pay the mechanic fifteen hundred bucks to basically change your air filter and your sparkplugs until I made him itemize the bill? Stuff like that."

"So I'm supposed to break up with her," Jim said, his voice flat. "For my own good."

"I swear to god, you are so fucking dramatic," Karen said. "Yeah, dump the girl you spent a zillion years pining after and go backpack around Europe. No."

"Then what?"

"OK, when we broke up? The last thing I thought I would end up being is your guidance counselor. I have no idea what you should do with your life. But I know, you know, Pam knows, and the tooth fairy knows that it's not what you're doing right now."

"The tooth fairy?"

She flushed. "Shut up. It was the only made-up thing I could think of right then."

"What about Santa? Will he be my guidance counselor?"

"Don't you guys get the Hanukkah fairy?"

"She's more into holistic medicine."

He made her laugh, he made her angry, and he ordered her another beer. She longed for Utica, where her employees respected her and she conquered 5.8 climbing routes and neua pad kimao en flambe.

"Then go get acupuncture if that's what it takes," she said when their new drinks arrived. "Learn to skydive. Consider, I don't know, talking to your girlfriend about your feelings. It will be a new experience for you, I know."

Jim leaned his cheek on his hand and stared at the barstool across from him. "It doesn't feel like it's that easy."

"It isn't that easy," Karen said. "Do it anyways."

He looked back at her. "How _did_ you get so awesome?"

"I was always awesome," she said seriously.

Jim quirked a small, sad smile.

"Yeah," he said. They drank in silence.

"Hey, so really, what's up with you?" he asked. "Obviously I'm unqualified to give you advice, but I'm a licensed listener in three states."

"Your jokes are _so_ bad sometimes," she said, shaking her head. "I'd make you buy me another beer if I wasn't already pretty sure this one was a mistake. My life is… complicated."

"Awesomely complicated?"

"Awesome and complicated. Better now that I decided to ease up on the dating front and focus on not letting my branch go under."

"You actually care about your job."

"Yeah, I actually do."

"That's great," Jim said. "That must make things so much better."

"It means I have to care about sales quotas, Jim, and not pissing customers off. It means I have to make sure customer service is actually answering their phones, and that quality control is actually controlling our quality, and that we don't go through too many boxes of pens."

"Ah."

"It also means sitting in quarterly meetings with Michael Scott and having a cokehead ex-salesman who never made a single sale be my boss when I should have been his."

"This is really reassuring, Filippelli," Jim said.

"Did I say I was trying to reassure you? You wanted to know about my life."

"But it's still awesome?"

"It's getting there."

"OK," he said, nodding. "Match point to the regional manager from Utica."

Karen wanted to say _it's not about points_ , but the beer and the wings were making her sleepy and she was tired of being his motivational speaker.

"So drink your beer, take the bus home tomorrow, and go buy a copy of _What Color Is Your Parachute?_ " she said. "And check the calendar and the weather before you leave the house."

Jim toasted her with a smirk and finished his drink, and Karen thought that he really did like to be told what to do just a little too much. It made her feel, for the first time ever, kind of sorry for Pam.

"Can you figure out how to get to your hotel from here?" Karen asked later, as Jim signed the credit card receipt. "The Bronx is up and the Battery's down, in case you've forgotten."

Jim looked at her blankly.

"You really need to catch up on your Hollywood musicals," Karen said.

"I really do not."

"Seriously, can you find your way back?"

"I can find my way back," he said, standing up. "Thank you. Sorry. Thank you."

Karen bit back one last sharp remark. "You're welcome. And maybe you're forgiven a little. Not a lot."

Jim smiled. She wished he would stop doing that. He reached down to touch her shoulder, and she didn't want him doing that either, and then he went out into the rainy night with no umbrella and a dead phone in his pocket.

Karen took the subway back to her hotel, drove home the next morning, and spent the weekend bouldering and filling out all her quarterly reports two weeks early. Rolando handed her a huge pile of phone messages when she came in Monday, and Norah had emailed her _again_ trying to get back together under the guise of some charity dinner. Karen deleted the email, signed audits, and dreamed of papaya salad and red curry on a warm beach in Bangkok, just her and miles of white sand and clear green sea.


End file.
